


To Be a Merman

by WinterWraith



Series: Tony is a merman, willingly or not [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fugitives, Human Experimentation, Near Death Experiences, POV Multiple, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Relationships, SHIELD, Tags May Change, merman!Tony
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-11-15
Packaged: 2020-10-12 18:43:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20569079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinterWraith/pseuds/WinterWraith
Summary: Tony doesn't remember what happened, only that he woke up in an unfamiliar place, being cared for by an unfamiliar woman. He cannot return to land for an indeterminant amount of time and must adapt to life as a merman, in both brutality and beauty. Meanwhile, as he adapts to undersea life, the memories start coming back, little by little.Hey its the inspiration for AWIFY! I've been working on it lately and I've decided to post it. I'll be working on both of them simultaneously as ideas pop in mind. The first chapter is mostly unchanged in terms of storyline from its debut in AWIFY; it only got longer as I progressed with the plot. And about that plot---I finally figured out wtf is gonna go down.





	1. Awake

It was cold all around him, which was good, because Tony's body ached all over. Though the hospital wing of the Tower must've been cooler than normal—he could feel the currents of wind caressing his body. Tony really couldn't bring himself to care, not when his whole body ached all over. Attempts to move was met with his muscles burning with fire, and the billionaire couldn't help but moan.

A hand pressed itself to his shoulder—which was bare to the world, and why was he on his stomach?—gentle and slightly warmer than the air around him. "Hey, don't move so much, alright?"

Did Pepper hire a new doctor? Or was she always here? Whichever one it was, he did not recognize her voice.

The woman pulled her hand away. "Mr. Stark? You awake for real this time?"

He groaned, shifting in the bed as best as he could. Something heavy moved with him. "Yeah. Mm'wake."

A soft chuckle. "What did I just say?"

"You asked if I was awake," he mumbled. He blinked open his eyes but immediately clamped them shut. The blast of cold air along with the brightness of the room cause pain to flare in his head. Another groan rumbled in his throat.

"Oh, you really are awake. Maybe. We'll see how your memory serves you next time."

"Who—" What kind of cold air was _so thick?_ "Who are you? When were you hired?"

There was a long pause, so long that the billionaire would've dared to seek out the woman, to pick apart her expressions, if only he was brave enough to open his eyes.

"Where do you think you are, Mr. Stark?"

The doctor's voice was soft and filled with concern, and Tony's mother flashed in his mind, stroking his cheek as he battled a fever when he was seven. And despite the unnaturally thick cold air, something warm fluttered in his chest. "The hospital wing, obviously, though why I'm on my stomach is a mystery I'd love to figure out."

Tony sniffed and recoiled when the air sank into his neck. He yelped, his hands flying to his neck. Brown eyes flew open just in time to see a dark shape bolt towards him and yank his hands away. The woman—or _thing with a woman's voice_—held fast to the Avenger as he flailed, kicking up dust—_dust?_ Wasn't he in a sterile white room? And why was he moving so freely? Shouldn't there be IVs and medical gauze restricting his movement? And _why_ wasn't JARVIS _doing anything?_

A hum filled the air, or what whatever passed for it, and Tony found himself calming down. He allowed himself to be settled back in the bed, which, he realized, may not actually be a bed because it was tickling him, but it was comfortable enough, so he wouldn't be a pain about it. For now. "At least tell me your name," he grumbled as he set his chin on his hands, blinking pain from his eyes. The dust swirled about, catching the light, and Tony once more shut his eyes for fear of causing more damage.

"Ava Apoll."

A half-smile formed on Tony's face. "You know who I am."

"I do indeed, Iron Man," Ava said with a chuckle.

"Tell me the damage, Ava. Why can't I feel my legs? Why do I feel heavier?" A stab of cold fear shot down his spine, and something on his back, something _long_, flared and quivered.

A few seconds of silence passed between them. _"Where_ do you think you _are_, Tony?"

If he could sag straight into the ground, he would. "In the sea." Dust does not swirl so thickly, so slowly, in air currents, no matter how cold the air was. And this bed he was in? He only caught a glimpse of it, but he saw dark green foliage, perhaps seaweed. And the woman before him—she had no legs.

_Pepper. Rhodes. Everyone...they must think I'm dead._

Tony began to shake. What happened to him? How long had he been down here? Are the others still searching for him, or have they given up? No, Rhodey, his Honeybear, he would never stop looking. Pepper and Peter, his love and CEO and kid, they would pester the others to search for even his bloated fish-eaten flesh, for the tiniest metal shard of his suit.

Ava swam closer, placing three fingers on his spine. Like a mother consoling her child she ran her hand along his spine and up onto that quivering something. "Your tail is beautiful, Stark," she began as he trembled and struggled to keep his breathing in check. "Your scales are maroon and white with golden freckles. Like glitter. And your fins are gold and kinda see-through. You'll look so dashing under the moon."

The man chuckled, strained and desperate. "H-how long? How long have I been here?"

"Three days, but you were already turned when I found you unconscious."

"And my suit?"

"Your helmet is mostly intact, but I literally had to make ten trips for the rest of it, and I still may not have gathered everything. If you like, I can take you there later."

He curled up around himself, probably slapping sand towards Ava as he dragged his tail towards his chest. "Sorry." Tony cracked open his eyes, gradually widening them in the darkness of the shade, and focused in on the long limb that took the place of his legs. His tail was long and thick, adding five feet to his already not-short height. It was truly a rich maroon color, with his underbelly being white and extending into his back in symmetrical stripes not unlike a zebra's. Like she said, his fins were translucent gold, and small golden freckles glittered all over his body, even on his skin.

It was then that a deep pit opened in his stomach, a little lower than it should be. Tony placed a hand over the sensation and frowned when he saw his hand below his belly button. The last time he ate was yeste—no, three days ago. He'd barely got any pancakes in when JARVIS alerted him to...to... His face scrunched up. Who attacked New York that day?

Water churned in front of him. Tony didn't bother to look at whatever Ava was doing. "Whaddya doin'?"

"Before I saw you I had cut myself some meat from a dead whale calf. I decided to save some of it for you." The mermaid placed a large clamshell in the shade by his head. Spilling out of it were wads of seaweed, and on the greenery were thick cuts of the darkest meat he'd ever seen.

Tony rolled to his belly and hauled himself over the side of the seaweed bed to stare down at the meat. Two of the four cuts, thicker than his pinky was long, still had the fat and skin. "You...you want me to eat this? _Dead whale meat?"_ Yet his stomach begged for it. So he reached out and, with his _claws_, cut out a clump of meat and fat and nibbled at it. He laid himself down half onto the sand, purposefully keeping his savior and captor in his side vision.

It was surprisingly good. Tony was more surprised by how his teeth sank into the meat with little resistance. A quick feel with his tongue alerted him to how sharp they were.

The light in his periphery was much dimmer than when he woke up, and his eye pain was down to an annoying ache. Tony cast Ava a sideways glance and saw the mermaid curled up like a cat two meters away, eating her own share of the meat. Her tail was mammalian in appearance, being blue gray with some irregular white spotting.

"How long will I be like this?"

"Oh, the change is permanent, _but,_" she hurried to add when Tony froze, "after at least six months you'll get your human form back."

"Okay...six months. I can wait six months." Well, six months of _this_ appeared much better than the three months he spent under the eyes of the Ten Rings. Not preferred, of course, but at least he wasn't constantly fearing for his life. As of now. Besides, Ava had brought him his suit. Sure, he'd have to think _way_ out the box here, but Tony was confident he could repair his suit just enough to send the coordinates of his location to his friends.

"I said at _least_ six months. I know a maid who lasted seven years."

"Well, by that time I would've made contact with my friends, assuming I'm still legless." Tony ripped another piece of meat off, deciding to eat it with a chunk of fat. The fat added a flavor the Avenger couldn't place, but it wasn't unpleasant. With every swallow he felt his palate inch towards the sea. At the end of these _at least six months_, the genius, billionaire, playboy, and philanthropist knew it'll be jumping with the dolphins.

They ate in blissful silence. As the minutes passed Tony took to familiarizing himself with his tail. Up and down, first starting with the tailfin and moving up until he could feel his pelvic fins, located where his knees should've been, being lifted out the bed. Then it was side to side, like a cat swishing its tail; then it was curling his tail so far to the side that he could rest his chin on the limb. He marveled at how fluid it moved, at how his tailfin swirled with the currents yet still remained firm, and for a moment a shred of excitement ripped through him.

"You're getting the hang of it," remarked Ava as she chewed on some meat. "Most who've been turned keep thinking _legs_ and not _tail_."

He shrugged, pulling a chunk of meat from a slab and chewing it to a near-pulp before swallowing. "How do people normally react?"

"Panic. Denial. Terror. Y'know, the typical, 'Oh, my family! They're going to think I'm dead!' You actually handled it quite well, so thank you for that."

Tony couldn't help but chuckle. "You're welcome."

Silence again. The light faded away and with it went the ache in his eyes. Replacing the sun was the light of the reactor, bathing the environment before him blue while everything to his sides was swallowed up by darkness. Yet, despite that, every formless shape in the rocks, each bulb and leaf in the bed, the sand dunes and Ava's own seaweed bed—he saw them all in shades of gray and muted purples.

"Will this...will this stay with me?" Tony asked softly. He fingered the fat and the connected skin, all that was left of his meal. It actually abated his hunger when less than half of the meal—If he was human—would've stuffed him to the brim.

"Everything will," replied the mermaid in kind. Her torso was over her tail, an arm looped over the ridge that marked her spine. Her clam had been pushed over to the side, nestled in a gaping alcove in the rock. "The change is permanent, remember?"

The merman frowned and flicked his eyes towards her. She knew so much about this and he wanted to know why, but the suspicion in his gaze was quickly snuffed out by guilt. Perhaps she was in his position once. "Were you changed?"

Ava shrugged. "Yeah. I'm not one to play the my-trauma-is-worse-than-your-trauma game, but it's definitely up there on the list of things you wouldn't wish on anyone."

"Right," he said softly, beginning to play around with his tail again. He began picking at the fat. "Where'd you put my suit?"

She pointed behind him. "It's right over there."

Nestled against the furthest wall of the cave was a pile of metal. Forgetting about his meal instantly, Tony swam over to what was left of his suit, throwing out his hands so that he wouldn’t collide into the wall. His claws clicked on the metal as he picked through the scraps. At the bottom of the pile was his helmet, a large hole in the place of the left eye. The poor thing was dented and scratched. Tony gently took it in his hands, mentally urging JARVIS to wake up and greet him.

But nothing happened.

"JARVIS," Tony whispered. "C'mon. Wake up. I'm here, I'm alive!"

Nothing.

Tony gently stroked the helmet, his thumb rolling over the cheek. He imagined the AI's mainframe desperately trying to reach out to the suit, watching and rewatching Tony's supposed last living moments. He imagined Pepper, his beloved Pepper, cataloguing every move he took all the while ruthlessly questioning the team; Happy, sitting silently on the couch; and Rhodey, his Honeybear, blaming himself for not being there. Tony remembered the cries of the rest of the Avengers as he plunged into the sea. Was it Steve who called his name the loudest?

"Tony?"

Blue dust swirled all around him; he'd been slapping and flicking his tail against the sand. "You got a lab?" Tony placed the helmet back onto the pile and turned to face Ava, who floated a respectful distance away. It was then that he was struck with quite the dilemma: what in the world kind of technology did mermaids have? If he had to repair a metal suit with rocks and clam shells he was going to drag himself through the streets of New York to get to his Tower.

A sly smile formed on her face. "No, not me, but a friend of mine does. Of course, he'll expect payment for his services."

Tony began to float to avoid the sand catching the light and nearly blinding him. All it took was a flick of his tail and he was level with her. "Fine. How much? Does he take US dollars?" Of course payment would be late, at least six months late, but as arrogant as he was Tony was a (mer)man of his word in times of trouble.

The mammal-tailed mermaid grinned, her eyes flashing an unsettling red-orange in the light of his arc reactor. "He doesn't take money, Stark. Food. Hunt for him." At the appalled expression on his face, Ava coiled upwards, laughing straight from her belly. "Ah, you have _so much_ to learn! Tell you what, we'll leave tomorrow for your suit, and when you get hungry again I'll teach you to hunt."

__________________________________________________________

Hunting was...a trial. Of course, Tony wasn't hungry. He wouldn't be, not for a long time he supposed, since he was still full from the whale meat. But there was only so much of blue water and rippling light and sand Tony could take before he went insane. So he practically begged Ava to teach him to catch stupid little fish.

And now here he was. Hissing curses at a nth hand-sized fish that's darted from his grasp and behind a rock. "Avaaa!" he whined. "Tell the fish to slow down!"

The whale mermaid was laughing, resting against a rock. "Speed up, Tony! Or perhaps you'd like a crab?"

He never really was fond of crab, but if it'd make an easier catch, then why not? "Alright," he said, twirling around to face her. "How do I catch a crab?"

"You dig for it, assuming you can feel its movement in the sand."

Tony rolled his eyes. "I would much rather scream at a fish."

"You were very close just seconds ago! But we'll have to move along now; you've scared the fish into hiding." She pushed herself away from the rock and continued on with their trek.

Iron Man glanced over his shoulder. The fish he'd chased had found refuge in the nooks and crannies in the rocks, too thin for his forearm. Those who braved the waters kept close to the formations, ready to dart to secluded freedom should Tony even coast in their direction. "Fine," he said, and he took off after her.

By now his tail truly felt like a part of him instead of an alien limb. It undulated up and down without thought, like legs when walking. Cool water slipped past his scales like a constant breeze.

The sand floor slowly sloped downwards, giving way to jagged rocks and flora. Ava angled her body down as well.

Tony hesitated. He scanned the world before him but all he saw was more blue, more sand, more rocks. With a sigh he flicked his tail to catch up to the mermaid. He noticed that he clawed out with his hands as well, as if he needed something to push himself off of. "This is, what, at least fifty feet down?" He figured he only survived because his transformation had saved him, though Tony had been underwater in his suit before. What made his suit break? How quickly had he crashed into the ocean? What, if anything, had hit him?

"It goes deeper."

His impact site was over two hundred feet below the surface, surrounded by boulders blooming with life. The crater he'd made had been smoothed over by the currents, but Tony still saw the displacement of sand, saw the trail his tail had made when Ava carried him away.

The team would not find a trace of him, not down here, hidden amongst the rocks. He couldn't even see glimmers of his suit, if there was any left. By the time SHIELD returned to scour the area, the ocean would've leveled out the crater.

Tony pursed his lips. Around the crater he could see the little divots where his mangled suit had been, plucked from the sand and carried back to the cave. Tony closed in on the nearest divot and sifted his hands though the sand, being as gentle as possible so as to not stir up a cloud.

Taking the hint, Ava began to do the same.

Together they raked through the sand, collecting whatever piece of metal they could find.

"I shoulda brought the clams," Ava hissed, dropping an eye-sized piece of metal onto the pile in her left hand.

"We can go back," Tony offered, "and return later."

She glanced at him. "Don't you want to find all the pieces of your suit? There's still sunlight."

He smirked. "Shoulda brought the clams."

So they went back to Ava's cave, placed their handfuls in the pile of metal, cleaned out the clamshells, and returned to the blooming rocks. They continued sifting the floor, even moving around the impact site in case shards of metal were carried off. Tony picked out a fingernail-sized shard if hot red iron from the little cave of a fish, perhaps used a decoration in its home. But Ava had taught him about stinging snails and fish, and he was unwilling to feel the inner crevasses of the rocks for more of his suit.

_If SHIELD can find it, let them. It'll be a neat little mystery for them, and a subtle hint that I'm alive._

When they could find no more shards of metal, Tony brought up the idea of hunting practice. "I think I saw an octopus," he teased, pointing to a boulder with a large branching coral. "I mean, it can't be too hard, right?"

Ava grinned. "Octopi are tricky, Tony. It's wits against size."

"Ha! More like wits versus wits!" He spun and shot off after it, arching over the coral and searching the anemones and sand for the little reddish thing. The fish, unaware of his intent, swam out of his way but did not flee, with many within arm's reach of the human-turned-merman. He even saw a green eel coiled between two rocks, its mouth agape and thin teeth at the ready, but it retreated somewhat when his shadow passed over it.

But he couldn't find the octopus. What could they do again? Change color?

Tony twisted and searched the rocks and coral with renewed conviction. It couldn’t have gotten far, not with so many hiding spots.

Once, twice, three times his eyes passed over the same rocks formations and coral.

There! A part of the rock twitched. Tony narrowed his eyes and leaned forward.

It was the octopus, curled up on a small outcropping. But from where it was positioned, he knew it could see him just as clearly as he could now see it.

There were two options now: abandon the hunt, or try to succeed despite being at a clear disadvantage. Well, Tony didn't become Iron Man by letting the Ten Rings have their way.

He darted forwards, hands outstretched. In a cloud of thick ink the octopus disappeared.

And the hunt was done.

A cloud of sand burst into existence behind the rock; Ava appeared, holding the little octopus by its tentacles. "Is _this_ what you were hunting?" she asked with a triumphant smile.

Tony swam closer, eyeing the wriggling thing. "Yup, that's him."

"You still want it?"

He gave it a considering look. "No, but I want to touch it."

She held it out towards him, and Tony felt the creature's skin. It was smooth yet still had an odd, rubbery-but-not texture. The merman tilted his head and pulled away. "So I'd just...eat it raw? And alive?"

Ava pointed to the area above the octopus's yellowish, w-shaped eyes. "Its brain wraps around its throat, so if you want to kill it, just hold it above its eyes with a tight grip. Brain liquefied. But you can also just rip one of its tentacles away if you only wanted a snack." She let it go, and in another cloud of ink the octopus shot away.

"Seems cruel." Tony cast his eyes in the direction he supposed it went. At least ten meters away he saw his prey dive into a bunch of yellow and pink coral.

"Nature is just as cruel as it is beautiful, Stark. You're with us now, and many mermaids are...they happily subscribe to the cruelty of nature. 'If we're part animal,' they believe, 'what's the point in being humane?'”

Tony studied her. Ava was beautiful; she was someone he'd have a fling with years ago if she'd approached. Her black hair was a veil around her head and neck, looped in tight coils, and her dark skin was mottled with the same white patterning as her tail. But he saw the numerous pink scars that hatched her skin, some having smooth edges and others as jagged as shark teeth. He saw how her hands were curled as if she were constantly on alert, as if she were ready to kill both prey and mermaids at a moment's notice.

And while Tony had his fair share of scars, he knew instantly that he was outmatched in a fight against her, against others.

"Teach me to fight, then," he said. "Teach me to _live_ down here."

"Let's go back home," Ava purred, "and I'll teach you the basic formations."


	2. A Home and a Nest

"Let's start with some basic defensive techniques."

The first was a tail swing, which was just that: a mermaid's tail swung in any direction, mainly from one side to the other. It was taught to pups as a way to distract and briefly stun their harassers, allowing time for their guardians to come to their aid. But the swing, when utilized by an adult, could cause massive damage to their attacker, ranging from incapacitating pain to broken bones to outright death.

There were two variants of the swing. The first was performed while anchored to a hard surface while the second was performed while floating. While swinging, the tail flukes were displayed at an angle to slap at the aggressor. The second variant involved flailing like a worm as Tony lashed out with his tail—all the while Ava chuckled. She had told him that whale and dolphin "mer" used the tactic most, since their tails were thicker and shorter than the tails of fish mer.

Next came actual hand-to-hand combat. "No fists down here," Ava had told him when she brandished her claws and gestured for him to do the same. "You're not human anymore, and never really will be, remember?" Using exaggerated movements, she taught him offensive and defensive moves. Keep your fingers in an arc; watch your sides; your gills are the most sensitive part of your body, so keep your arms up at all times; eyes on your foe no matter what.

Even though Ava never hurt him, the implied brutality of her actions horrified him. In an actual fight, she'd have slit his belly, clawed at his eyes, raked her claws down his chest and sides. When she upped the ante and swam around him in circles, Tony felt her paw at his spinal fin, tap at his back, and she even dove down to grab his tail.

Tony squawked indignantly and flipped downwards to bat at her hands, but with a single tail flick she shot back and then lunged at his belly, bringing them both to the ground. “So I lost?” he asked, surrounded by sand clouds. He could feel her breasts pressing into what now constituted as his stomach, but it wasn’t arousing. No, it was…_comforting_ to feel another body against his, letting him know that everything wasn’t some unnervingly lucid nightmare.

“I tore open your stomach,” Ava agreed, running the back of a finger down his stomach. “Guts everywhere!”

Tony rolled to face her. “Have you done that before?”

Ava pushed herself off of him, but she seemed unsettled. “Only once, and once was enough.”

They continued sparring for another hour, reviewing the lessons of the day. Ava sped up her attacks but still provided Tony the time to defend himself, and Tony was proud to note that he was starting to recognize the openings she provided him for attack. He, too, was getting faster, but he kept his claws well away from her flesh.

Sunlight still beamed overhead.

Without thinking Tony began to swim, suddenly desperate to see land. His head broke through the surface and he spun in a frantic circle.

Just clouds and two endless expanses of blue.

Ava appeared a ways beside him, using her hands to tuck her limp hair behind her ears. Her expression was gentle and understanding, if a bit worried.

Tony took in deep breaths to steady himself, aware that a newfound instinct closed his gills in favor of his nose. He squinted up at the sun, noticing that it was so bright it seemed to drown out the sky. It was after noon, he realized, but far from evening. At this time of day, if he wasn’t swamped by meetings or parties or celebratory lunches, Tony usually locked himself in his lab. “Your friend has a lab, right? When can we go?”

“We need bags to carry your suit in first. And we’ll have to go to—” Ava sighed deeply, placing a hand to her head as if she was suffering a terrible migraine, “—Abaddon. A nest of thieves, but a trading center. We can get some sealskin pouches, larger than the ones I have.” She stared down into the water, her brow furrowed as if she was doing complex math.

The merman left her to her calculations. Avoiding the sun this time, Tony returned his eyes to the sky. Thin, wispy horsetail clouds cruised in large patches, paired with the linear trails of plane engines. Far in the distance was a towering thunderhead so wide it seemed to swallow up the horizon. Its flat top gleamed white, silver, and gray, but lightning flashed and coiled from its thick trunk.

For a moment fierce anger boiled up in his body. Why couldn’t he have been given wings? The _sky_ is his domain, not the sea! He could be playing in the clouds right now, perhaps even challenging the storm to strike him! Chasing the sun, scattering clouds, following birds… But _no_—he apparently needed to be down here with the fish. Like his scales, would his wings have been maroon and white, perhaps tipped with gold? Or would his feathers have been the color of his hair?

Thunder faintly rumbled.

Ava lifted her head, eyes locked on the storm. “Alright then.”

“What?” Tony twisted to face her.

“Bad storm. Can’t stay here for that.” Ava caught his eye. “My nest is only a few hours away, and it’s closer to Abaddon. We’ll sleep there tonight and leave after we’ve rested.” She sunk back into the ocean right as a gust of wind buffeted the surface.

Tony dove after her. “But isn’t this your home?” The little cave was small but cozy, reminiscent of a bedroom, complete with its own little skylight. A note of sadness filed his heart at the thought of leaving the only undersea home he’d ever known.

“I have plenty of homes! But only one nest!”

In the cave Ava revealed a little sealskin pouch which Tony used to hold the suit’s head, the smaller shards, and as many larger shards as he could. The rest of the suit was loaded up into the clams. After making sure they had everything and scattering the seaweed that lined the bed Tony slept in, the duo left the waters.

Due to the unsecured shards in the clamshells, Ava led them at a relatively slow pace. Tony had the pleasure of watching the endless expanse of sand pass underneath them, patterned with identical, linear rows and broken only by the daily struggles of sea life. But thirty minutes into their swim the sand abruptly stopped at a jagged cliff. Down there, at least two hundred thirty meters below them, Tony saw colossal boulders, sandy patches, and even a broken boat.

“There’s a boat down there,” the genius mused. By the amount of rough-looking growths on the vessel, he figured it had sunk decades ago, probably before his birth.

“Once we get closer to my nest, we’ll see dozens more of those,” Ava purred.

Tony snapped his gaze to her. “You live in a _ship graveyard_?”

“Of course! I don’t _want_ to be found by humans! No one does.”

More than an hour later the water went dark. Up above the surface began to beat itself with such ferocity that Tony felt the thundering vibrations along his back. Numerous times his spinal fin flared in alarm.

Ava dove and Tony followed her. They leveled out more than a hundred meters below, with plenty of room between them and the sea floor. “This is why I moved us. We were too close to the surface, and storms draw up currents.”

“Your nest isn’t so close to the surface, right?” He felt confident in swimming, but fighting against currents? Fighting against currents _while_ navigating between sunken ships? That’ll be his death.

“It is, but I nested in an island. We’ll be safe.”

Very soon total darkness consumed the sea, and the only way to keep track of time was with the disorienting flashes of white lightning and thunder. Even though Tony could see the land below him with total clarity—even aided by the light of his heart—the land seemed eternal and stagnant. Changes were miniscule at best, nonexistent at worst. Only once the land changed drastically from rocks and sand to purely rock, and Tony entertained himself by studying the layout.

It was dotted with flat-topped boulders, and atop many of the boulders were tall growths. Perhaps coral, perhaps anemones—he couldn’t really tell the difference, but he was sure he’d learn at some point. A few of the growths spiraled upwards, others branched out like flat trees, and still others were open like flowers. Many growths Tony recognized as sea sponges, growing tall and proud. Fish lazily skulked between the boulders and stirred up clouds as they dug themselves into the sand.

A strong current, called an undercurrent, swirled against them. Tony and Ava pumped their tails to fight against the undersea wind, not even finding respite underneath it.

Finally, finally, sunken ships appeared beneath them. With a relieved sound Ava sped up, descending to the ships’ level and gliding between them and the sharp boulders with practiced ease.

Tony kept as close as possible while also observing the ships. Many of them, he knew instantly, were centuries old and completely overtaken by the sea. Wooden planks, like teeth, stabbed into the water. Large and small, many of the ships were reminiscent of the stereotypical pirate’s vessel, complete with the triad of tall beams meant to hold the sails and the crow’s nests. Gaping holes along the sides allowed access into the vessels. The scientist in him was begging to explore these relics of the past, to scope out every room and inspect everything remotely interesting, to tinker with any aged tech still left behind.

But rest came first. His tail burned with fatigue, his eyes were drooping, and his fingers felt as if they’d be permanently curled. Hunger hadn’t reared its head yet, but Tony wouldn’t be surprised if he’d be hunting seriously sometime tomorrow or the next day.

Thunder roared overhead as the pair exited the graveyard. Beyond them, closing in fast, was a rock wall they stretched at least fifty meters left and right. Pale froth swirled at its sharp edges.

Ava glanced over her shoulder at him. “Stay close,” she warned.

He nodded, too tired to speak.

The mermaid dove straight down, making only a slight right turn. She led him through a cave entrance and into the darkness within. As they swam, Tony counted three additional openings in the tunnel, but Ava ignored them, following the tunnel as it widened and its ceiling sloped upwards. Stalagmites stabbed upwards towards them, but in the clarity of the water Tony realized that they were more than fifteen feet away.

The tunnel opened up into one large chamber with multiple alcoves of different sizes.

Ava released a long sigh and led them to a set of rocky platforms, the largest of which gently sloped upwards, slightly out of the water. They set down their baggage on a lower platform and dragged themselves upon the largest of them, breathing deeply.

“Welcome to my nest,” purred the whale mermaid.

Tony scanned the lair. At its highest, the toothy ceiling was more than thirty feet away. Along the edges of the chamber were multiple misshapen platforms, upon which there were small piles of items—treasures, most likely, from the ships. It was roomy, many times larger than the cave he’d woken up in only a day ago. The ceiling directly above them had no holes, but around them Tony counted more than ten streams of rainwater cascading down like waterfalls into the cave. At the far side was an alcove that opened up to the world above; hanging plants were draped along the rock wall and partly down the edges of the opening. “It’s beautiful. Perfect, even.”

She puffed out her chest.

Tony stared at her. “You’re really okay with opening your nest to me?” He was a private being, hiding his emotions behind an arrogant mask. He didn’t trust easily, not anymore. If their positions were switched, Tony wouldn’t have taken her to his own nest. He’d stay at the other den until Ava was well enough to travel on her own.

“Of course! You needed a place to stay. And like I said, we’re a violent people. I couldn’t leave you to be killed.”

A soft rumbling formed in his chest, and Tony blinked back tears. Twice now in his life he was spared by the kindness of others in a time when he should have, could have, died. “Tha—thank you, Ava.”

The mermaid nodded, eyes bright. “Let’s sleep, and I’ll show you around tomorrow as we rest.”

__________________________________________________________

Tony woke up to the echoing _plip, plip, plip_ of water droplets onto water and onto his back. The streams of rainwater had lessened into the occasional droplet, while the stalactites on the cave ceiling released their own droplets everywhere in the cave.

Light beamed into the chamber, piercing the water and shimmering onto the ceiling. Tony sleepily admired the light show, yawning and stretching. Curious, he pushed himself into the water and reemerged under the closest skylight. Through the hole he saw bushes and trees against a bright, hazy sky.

The merman furrowed his brow. He could imagine this island remaining unknown for centuries due to the shipwrecks, but now humanity had planes and satellites. Surely this place had been catalogued, even if there was no intent to study it? Or perhaps the only interesting islands were the ones claimed as national territory?

Well, if he _were_ born a merman, he’d sure as heck search for human interference before he claimed an island as a nest. The last thing he wanted was be caught and sold to a demented private collector, or even experimented on.

He hummed thoughtfully. _At least six months_ was plenty of time to search for his own nest. If this change was permanent, might as well make the best of it. “Ava?”

“Mm?” her voice echoed.

“When can I find my own nest? No jab against you, of course, but a nest of my own will be useful in the future.” Even superheroes needed their time alone, to let the world be saved by someone else, and what better way to be alone that to reside in an unknown location unreachable by man?

She combed back her hair from her face. “Whenever you’re ready, but I’m willing to share. This chamber is just one of seven.”

“I don’t want to impose,” he said as he swam to her, pulling himself onto the rock.

Ava smiled and set down the comb—one carved out of a turtle’s shell. “This place is big enough for the both of us! But if you want to search within the moon, I’m willing.”

Tony hadn’t forgotten about wanting to fix his suit, but which was more important? A fixed suit, or a nest to place his fixed suit? Then Pepper’s screaming echoed in his mind. All of his suits had a mental connection to him; it had taken one nightmare to have an Iron Man suit nearly blast Pepper in oblivion. The guilt he carried still consumed him on occasion, and should it happen again with Ava… “Well, maybe we can search after Abaddon? Maybe you can give me some tips on how to choose the perfect nest today.”

She nodded. “Let’s go, then.”

Towards the eastern side of the island was a beautiful, rocky reef. While not overly colorful, it hosted a variety of fish Tony had never seen before. The reef stretched all the way to the beach of the forested island. All around the beach were tide pools, filled with octopi, starfishes, slugs, and shellfish.

They swam up to one to the lower tide pools, admiring the burst of color within it.

Ava plucked one of the shellfish, forced it open with her claws, and ate the meat inside. She flicked the shells back into the pool, frightening the little fish.

Tony mimicked her—why? he didn’t freaking know—and pulled his own snack from the wall of the pool. He forced his dark claws between the animal’s black shells, forcibly opening it like a book. Then he pulled out its meat and guts and swallowed them whole. “That was…surprisingly good,” he murmured, tossing away the shells.

“What were you expecting?”

“To, you know, taste its guts and puke.”

The mermaid purred. “Wait till you eat slugs and turtle eggs.” Before he could respond, she pushed herself off the rocky floor and swam closer to the beach.

Gaping, Tony followed.

As the sand sloped upwards, the mer were forced to claw their way out of the water, even needing to use their tails to propel themselves up the beach. More than a hundred feet in the distance loomed the forest. It was beautiful and lush, but remained fairly low to the ground despite growing on rocky outcroppings. Birds cackled and squawked as they flew to and fro, some of them nesting on the platforms of grass and hanging vines. Tony thought he saw a bright-colored lizard dash up a nearby tree.

To the far right, separated by water, Tony saw another island, and a smaller one farther out. “Are all the islands connected?”

“Most of ‘em are.”

“Hm. Let’s pretend I live in a nest like yours, and humans found it. They’re walking all over my islands, cutting plants for study and tagging animals, but they aren’t diving and poking around at rocks for a cave opening. What do I do?” Realistically, Tony wanted an underwater nest, assuming that his fixed suit will have properties the surface cannot provide. But he was part of a different world now; mer logic was, and he’s going out on a limb here, probably very different than human logic.

Ava tilted her head, brow furrowed. “How do you expect humans to get to your nest? Boat? The water is, presumably, far too shallow and dangerous. Helicopter? They’d have to risk disruption and unpredictable weather.”

“Helicopter.”

“Then they likely don’t intend to swim. Let them walk, but watch them. If they make a habit of coming back, and they might, since you say they’re tagging, you’ll have to find a new nest. That is,” she added with a smirk in his direction, “unless you want to be tagged, too.”

He lifted a brow. “What? No fighting?”

“Only if they’re alone. Just use that tail swing I taught you. Right at the head. They’ll sink like rocks.”

Back into the water they went, swimming a perimeter around the island as Ava pointed out useful structures and tips in selecting the perfect nest. Jagged spires were perfect, Ava had told him, because their presence caused sudden undercurrents that no boat would brave; but those very same undercurrents could be fatal to a mer, too, so learn the patterns.

Directly in the light of the sun was a short cliff. It descended five feet underwater before giving way to a toothy cave. The tunnel was smaller than the one that led directly to the nest, but it was still wide enough for Ava and Tony to swim side by side. Blue light reflected off the rocks for more than five minutes before it was overtaken by sunlight. While the cave still continued on, a hole at the top opened up to a small pond in the middle of the forest.

Tony did not know what kind of birds he saw, but they were the colors of stone and shone purple, green, and blue in the light. He swam up to the pond’s leaf-carpeted beach, smiling when marine grasses tickled his underbelly. Some dragonflies buzzed around him, and butterflies of a species unknown to him fluttered about, beating their shining green-and-purple wings. To his right a blue lizard sunned itself on a flat rock in a patch on sunlight, unconcerned by his presence.

Ava swam up beside him. “It’s the little things that make you love your nest. When you get your legs back, I’ll show you around.”

“That’d be nice,” he said absently. There was nothing like this in New York, but he really made no effort to walk the parks. The city was beautiful in its own way when viewed from the sky or from the height of his Tower, especially at night. Looking _up_ was a new concept when one was always looking _down_. “Are there more pools like this?”

“A few more, yes.”

Following the tunnel again led to another sunlit chamber, though it was not as large as the nest. There were accessories organized by whether they were made of gold or silver. Some were ornate with real jewelry, others with multicolored pearls, and still others with some type of mineral he’d never seen before. On a lower platform was a…thing…folded like a linen sheet, only it was made of scales sewn together. He saw a bundle of unicorn horns against the far wall along with a crown made of those horns, piles of whale and shark teeth, fossilized and opalized shells and bones, and many other items.

“Is this…your treasure room?” Tony dove and swam towards the piles of teeth, some of them sewn into necklaces and bracelets. Three of the shark teeth were larger than plates. How Ava carried these, he’ll never know.

“Can’t trade if you have nothing _to_ trade.”

“So I’ll need a treasury room in my nest, huh?”

“Not if you want to sleep with your clutter.”

“Oh, I could if I would.” He ran a finger down a narwhal tusk, admiring how smooth it felt. The crown at the bottom of the pile, though woven from gold, had the last few inches of swirling bone adorning its top. The bones were even colored: the middle was blue, the two at its sides were gray, and the pair at the outer edges were—surprisingly—green. In between the teeth were massive bear canines. “How would I build up my own treasury?”

“I’ll lend you some of my stuff. I forget what I have half the time anyway,” she added with a smirk when Tony whirled to protest. “Besides, it’s tradition to give a portion of your store to your pups when they find a nest of their own.”

Tony’s eyes widened. “Pup? You think I’m a _child_?”

An ear-to-ear smile formed on Ava’s face. “Aren’t you? New to this world, still figuring out how things work?”

“Well…” Tony crossed his arms, turning up his nose. “I’m still an adult by human standards.”

Ava swam past him, purring, and Tony butted her shoulder. Together they swam through a misshapen tunnel in the furthest wall of the cave, which led back into the main cave. With the treasury fresh in his mind, the main nest was barren despite the golden coins littering the floor and the platforms.

Ava descended to the lowest rocky surface of the cave and stretched out onto it. Without prompting, Tony settled beside her. “Of course, I’m showing you what I like,” Ava said, shrugging. “The nest you choose may not even be an island, or a series of tunnels. Maybe you’ll nest in the abyss, or in a reef, or along the Midocean Mountains.” She shrugged, even flipping up her tail. “It’s all preference.”

A small hum vibrated in Tony’s throat. “I think I prefer an island, or maybe a nest close to the surface. I’ll want to see the sky,” he added, more so to himself.

“You and me both.” Ava’s voice was soft, almost wistful.

Comfortable silence passed between the two mer. They settled closer together until they were tangled like cats.

And all the while Tony knew he wouldn’t normally do this. This wasn’t _him_, and it terrified him. What new instincts ran through his blood? First he was unmoved by Ava’s breasts, even now as he feels them against his back; secondly, he was now cuddling her as if they’d had a particularly fun bout of intercourse. Was Tony the Human slowly fading away in favor of Tony the Merman? Will it the Merman walking around in the Human’s body when Tony finally got his legs back?

It was as if the water had turned to ice around him, suffocating him, struggling to reach his bones.

Tony took a minute to collect himself before he asked, “Wh-what was your nest like, before you chose your own?”

And Ava, bless her anatomical heart, chose to ignore his broken, almost forced tone. “My dad, Humboldt, made his nest in northern Greenland, in an ice cave. And while I love the cold and the ice and the hunting, I couldn’t handle the year-long days.”

“Humboldt?”

“It’s actually a type of squid. They’re dangerous, hungry things. It’s common in some mer cities and villages to use them as punishment, for entertainment. They’d cripple the offending mer, guilty or not, and drop them in a swarm of humboldts, and they’d be eaten alive.”

Tony lifted himself up on his arms to stare at her. “Your father was named after a _man-eating squid_?” Or, rather, a _mer-eating squid._

She beamed with pride, her conical teeth seemingly glowing within the shadow of her mouth. “It’s a very intimidating name! Of course, so long as he didn’t try to mimic them, no one complained.”

“Hm.” Another beat of silence. When Tony spoke this time, his voice was steady. “Do humans get new names once they’re changed?”

Ava shifted slightly. “Your last name changes to the last name of the mer that found and nursed you. So your mer name is Tony Apoll, after me, and your human name is Tony Stark.”

_Tony Apoll_. His new name felt odd on his tongue; Apoll was struggling to form correctly between his teeth.

But he didn’t want to worry about that right now. Right now…he just wanted to rest. Tony relaxed into Ava’s body, gills fluttering as he sighed into the shimmering water. He resigned himself to sleep, and blissful darkness soon overtook him.


	3. Abaddon

It took three more days for them to be ready enough—mentally and physically—to leave for Abaddon. Ava had given Tony a shirt made from brown bear fur to hide the light of the arc reactor. She took out a shirt for herself as well, one made from a musk ox. She had also been very thorough in teaching Tony how to fight, with claws and with weapons, and even what to expect from the mer there.

She taught him the value of jewels and crowns; the starting price of gold and silver necklaces (which, apparently, weren’t as pricey as on the surface) and the value each jewel type added to them; and how common shark, dolphin, and orca teeth were used in trade. Shells were worth less than teeth and were only interesting if woven together in dazzling patterns, but only a few types of shells were worth more than two necklaces at least.

Never let down your guard, Ava had said, because the Abaddonites of Marketside would happily slit your spinal fin or even slip a blade through your ribs to get to your possessions. The mer were a people of oaths—those in Abaddon even more so. If the thieves couldn’t steal your possessions, they’ll attempt to steal your loyalty.

Tony drank in all her words; he categorized each sentence and filed them away for later. Abaddon sounded much like a business deal: each side wanted more than the other would allow and was trying to back the other into a corner. His company—graciously handed over to Pepper—won the lion’s share of every deal. Tony only hoped he could work his magic down here as well, preferably _without_ his death.

It took little more than four hours to reach the “Nest of Thieves,” which was located so deep in the ocean that deep blue sunlight just barely reached the rocky seafloor. Fashioned out of disassembled boats and cleverly-placed rocks were houses in close proximity to each other. Mer, some with fish tails and whale tails but others with the tentacles of octopi, were settled in and around the houses. Most did not care for the two as they coasted above them, too preoccupied with their own lot in life, but Tony counted more than a dozen calculating and curious eyes that watched him and Ava.

He was glad that she’d given him his shirt, no matter how oddly it pressed at his back fin. He was sure far too many of those watchful mer would rip his heart right out his chest for a mere necklace. Then morbid curiosity overtook him: how much _was_ his heart worth? _Certainly more than a pouch’s worth of jewels. Maybe even two. I’ll haunt anyone who sells it for less!_

They descended closer to the floor, passing on the right side of thin stone poles with gold and green circular lanterns wired about them like snakes. Within ten feet of the poles the floor had been cleared of as many pointed and jagged rocks as possible, which had then been used to line the sides of the streets.

Soon the assembled houses became more ornate and larger in appearance. They were made almost purely of stone and minerals; the houses were almost akin to shoddy sandcastles, and each castle differed slightly from the others. They were two stories tall, their widths varying. Within them lights sparkled and music—_music!_—rang, and voices laughed in that smug way only the wealthy could manage.

Now Tony had been content with his wealth. He threw extravagant parties and told rich people jokes, and he had musicians perform for him and women dance for him. But he’d never been _that_ smug.

He hated how their laughs thickened the water.

But Ava kept going, politely refusing mer that swam their way and offered food and drink or something to trade.

“Drugged?” Tony inquired as they cleared the wealthy housing, descending into the market below. There were more lights down there, some in the shapes of jellyfish or turtle shells. Mer were floating in their stalls or coasting lazily through the streets, searching for their next purchase. Various types of jewelry glittered on the bodies of mer when the lights hit them just right. Tony’s finned ears pricked when he saw an octopus mer descend upon a whale mer, using her tentacles to wrench the bracelets and necklaces from the whale, who thrashed and seemed to snarl.

“Not always,” she replied, watching the theft as well. “No, the kinder ones just expect a large—and I do mean _large_—price for their hospitality.” She growled low in her throat. “I still bite my tail at that one. I lost the few necklaces and a crown that I actually felt proud to trade. I still made do, of course, but just barely.”

Tony lifted his brow as he studied her. They’d been practicing haggling in the last three days in case Tony ever found something he wanted. It was a fun activity; both mer were skilled in the art of word games to get what they needed, Ava for survival and Tony for business. It was almost magical to hear their words slide over and prod at one another, searching for weakness and hesitance in one another’s logic. Tony won a few rounds in their make believe sales, but Ava had been the champion, backing him into corners he never knew existed.

So it worried Tony slightly that there was someone here in Abaddon that she could potentially lose to.

But they were searching for pouches, for _handbags_. Really, how hard could it be?

Very hard, apparently. Mer that sold pouches made from the skins of seals, bears, and even lynxes and moose practically clutched them close to their hearts like family heirlooms, like it’d personally offend their ancestors and curse their bloodlines forever if even the smallest of the pouches was sold for two necklaces and an opalized nautilus shell. Apparently it was like finding a thousand dollar Gucci bag and paying with twelve cents and a few rolls of pocket lint and expecting the store to make do.

Tony had tried his hand the third time. The store owner was an eel-tailed mer, a woman who wore a strange leather-looking shirt over her body. He’d complimented her lovely face and her stock of jewels, bone accessories, and pouches. He’d asked about her stock, about where it all came from—a friend who is a trader, and most she just wanted gone but for a fair price of course! Three of the pouches she was selling were large, large enough for their trip to the laboratory.

“_That’s_ it?” the eel mer, Mora, hissed. Her tail, dark brown with a yellow gold underbelly and sporting formless black splotches, slithered behind her. “A rainbow bone and four bracelets?”

“I think it’s a fair trade for two moose skin pouches.” Tony held out the items. He had an opalized bone in one hand and the four bracelets—silver and gold accessories encrusted with opals, obsidian and peridots, rubies and sapphires, and colorful tourmalines—in the other. He remained quiet as Mora seethed, but watched her study the stock he held out specifically to catch her attention.

There was silence between them.

Mora pointed to the second bracelet. “What’s that black rock?”

“It’s obsidian,” Tony purred. He rolled his left arm forward and back, allowing Mora to better study the accessory. “Produced in Hawai’i.”

She scrunched up her face. “Where?”

“You know, the islands off the good ol’ USA? In the Pacific?”

Dim recognition lit up her face. “Oh, that place. My grandaddy’s from there. Say, have this third pouch as a bonus.” She handed him the two pouches he was bargaining for as well as an additional one made of a bright, multicolored skin. “Y’know, from one fellow USAn to another.” Mora gleefully took the bone and bracelets from Tony, clipping the one from Hawai’i onto an arm and admiring it.

Tony took the three pouches and swam off with Ava. In the sun-colored lights of the market, the multicolored pouch—sky blue with red, lightning-like stripes—seemed to glitter. “What is this from? Do you somehow have synthetic furs or skins?”

“It’s from a hippocamp,” Ava replied. “You know, literal sea horses. I’m hoping the skin was taken from a dead hippo that lived a long life, because they’re sacred down here, and if it was illegally killed and skinned we’ll be killed ourselves by association.”

Tony slowed, veering off to the side so that he wouldn’t impede traffic. “Is there a way to tell?” The maroon merman inspected the hippocamp pouch, searching for some kind of tag.

Ava took the bag and searched it. “A stamp. A turtle, usually, or an eel or anemone… Yes! Here!” She pointed to the stamp. It was a profile of a horse-like creature with a long dolphin-like snout. The hippocamp had a fat, spiraling horn like those spiraling seashells children find at the beach, and it lacked a mane in favor of a row of flared scales down its arching neck. At the bottom of the stamp, where the hippocamp’s neck ended, were two identical rows of bubbles, each facing the opposite way. Below the bubbles were a few lines of a swirling script.

“Poseidon’s Bloodlines,” she read, grinning. “You got a _good_ one.”

Having gotten what they wanted, the pair swam off to what appeared to be a plaza. There were mer lazily floating or resting around; most were in groups of at least two and no higher than five, while the rest sat alone. Surrounding the plaza was a food court, oriented in a large arc. Sticking up from the food market was an unusually tall pole glimmering with the same gold and green lights.

In the middle of the plaza was some type of Abaddon-brand Stonehenge; short, erect stones—no taller than six feet—were in a near-perfect circle around a quartet of stones at least twice as tall as they, and _those_ stones boxed in a skyscraper of a rock, easily dwarfing all of them. Radiating from the ground underneath the tallest rock was a bright golden light, giving the appearance that the stone was resting just above a sun.

Connecting the first ring of stones were greenish ropes, and hanging from the ropes were little spheres of light. Like the poles, they shone gold and green, but this time there was blue. The new color, however, was hideously outnumbered.

For its relative simplicity, Tony found it very beautiful.

“For all their thievery,” Ava began, “these mer are wonderful artists.”

“They have more art? What kind?”

“Sculpture and light weaving.”

Light weaving? Were mer weaving little lights into those green ropes, or some other kind of fabric? Or were they literally weaving light they generated themselves? The former sounded more practical, but after the violent introduction of gods and aliens and all-powerful glowing pebbles into his life, Tony was wondering if the mer were, in some way, magical. “Show me the artist’s side of Abaddon.”

The border that separated Artside from Marketside was (un)surprisingly blatant. Marketside’s houses were somewhat elegant, but they were packed together and shared space with huts that could be built, torn down, and rebuilt within a day. Stalls practically encroached on one another’s space as if attempting to push each other out of town; many sold accessories that were no doubt, in Tony’s mind, stolen from the mer here, or at least stolen from mer in different towns and cities.

Artside, on the other hand, was almost ornamental in appearance. The houses were in the shapes of domes, and inlaid within them were posts with golden lanterns and small jewels oriented in swirling patterns. At his sides Tony noticed that the borders of the street were dark green stones cut into rounded squares, and the stones were stacked in pairs. As if it were some form of graffiti, the stones had random reliefs of stylistic or realistic marine fauna. The stalls of Artside also sold accessories and food, but they were all a respectful distance away; they were adorned with shimmering hippocamp skins, all of the skins showing the stamp of their breeders. The poles situated in the middle of the streets were carved so that they appeared to twist elegantly up to the Atlantic’s surface.

Here in Artside the mer were noticeably more carefree in behavior but they did not boast their wealth. Tony noticed that they all kept a wary eye on their surroundings as if even the thievery of Marketside had permeated their side of the water.

Ava politely greeted mer that swam up to them; she freely traded and sampled snack-sized family dishes of various kinds of sushi and kelp salads. Tony traded around as well, gaining a necklace of misshapen, multicolored pearls as well as a ring of zinc and inlaid with copper swirls and rubies.

His first treasures.

“So these mer don’t want to drug us?” Tony asked as he finished the second and last bite of a squid-kelp roll. It was, in all honesty, not too good a sample, but it still had enough flavor for Tony.

“Not at all.” Ava banked left into a street that was just filled with more of the dome houses, only mer were heading in and out of them at a rate that would make even the most outgoing family uncomfortable. So, stores. “Oh, perfect!” The whale mer sped up, angling upwards a meter or two so that they wouldn’t barrel into anyone. “This is Artside’s marketplace. Y’know, for books and paper and all that.”

Paper. Well, if the mer can somehow make light and ride supposedly-mythical literal sea horses, then _surely_ they can have paper.

Tony followed Ava into a store that hosted a great deal of books of all sizes and thicknesses. Their covers were varied, some flexible with skins, like paperbacks on the surface, and others firm like hardcovers. On stone shelves were a variety of pens made of what might be polished stone or even bone, and placed with them were vials of ink with the swirling script.

“I’ll get a language book,” Ava said to him, her voice soft so that only he could hear her. “You pick out a journal and pen.” With that she set off, disappearing into a different section of the store.

Meanwhile Tony admired his options. Should he go for a large journal? Or a small one? The red mer swam between the shelves. He probably shouldn’t go for a hardcover, since he and Ava will be traveling a lot. His paperback, likewise, should be small and portable, capable of fitting within a pouch.

Alright. Small paperback. Tony made his way to the appropriate section. Some of the covers were unnecessarily furry as if they were fashioned from bears. Others gleamed in the calm blue lights of the store as if they were made from some mildly-prismatic silk. Tony chose a reasonably-sized journal with a sleek, short-furred skin. The paper within was green, far cry from the usual white or cream or other light color of the surface.

Now, what pen should he get, and do the inks come in different colors?

He left with a pouch that felt pleasantly heavy. Ava herself had gotten more than just a language book: she’d bought a current map, which was like a road map but with the Atlantic’s sea currents, and more pens and inkwells.

“Might we see the art now?” Tony asked.

Hence its name, Artside was filled with sculptures, both towering and short. Most, Tony saw, were carved with reliefs of whirling patterns that were likely depicting whirlpools and hurricanes, and inlaid in those whirls were gemstones; others had text carved into them; a few seemed to be depicting legends, as he saw mer of various kinds battling one another, or facing against gods, or staring down sea monsters; and the rest were like the Abaddonhenge—tall and twinkling with lights.

Really, Tony had been expecting a plethora of paintings. _But I guess you can’t paint underwater unless you have water-resistant paints. Or maybe they can, considering I literally have ink right now._ That’s not to say, however, that he wasn’t impressed.

Then they paused before a pair of tall stones, spaced exactly twenty feet apart. Connecting them were ropes upon ropes of dazzling light, glowing bright enough not to blind, yet still demanding attention. The top three lines were gold in color, while a dozen of the lines below it were sea blue, and the rest darker still, with occasional flecks of red and striking blue that faded and blinked in and out of existence.

Tony couldn’t understand how some of the mer swam by the stunning piece of magic-light-art with little more than a glance. “What’s this supposed to represent?”

“It’s often called _Lights Below_, I think, but it’s so old no one remembers its real name, or who even made it.” Ava led them a few meters closer. “Those lights,” she began, pointing to the lazy red flashes and the instant blue flashes, “represent life and death in the abyss—the dark blue. The bright blue is up here, the surface, and the gold is the sun, or just the daytime sky. It’s the agreed-upon interpretation, anyway,” she added, almost as if it were an afterthought.

Light weavings were scattered about Artside so as to not overwhelm one another and blind viewers. All incorporated rocks as a base to hang from. Like Abaddonhenge, Tony counted sixteen weavings that used the green rope—“Kelp rope,” Ava had told him—from which a variety of glowing strings and lanterns hung. Many of the lanterns were simple spheres, all varying in size, but some were turtle shells, dolphins and whales, and Tony even saw a few stylized squid. Blue was a rare color here as well, overshadowed by gold, green, white, and even red and pink.

“I’d think _blue_ would be one of Abaddon’s signature colors,” he observed with a shrug. “I mean, water is blue. And we’re in water.”

Ava waved dismissively. “Nah, blue’s for the abyssal cities. It’s the color they see most often, anyway. You can always tell the depth of a city by their pole colors.”

“Is it like a flag? The…pole colors, I mean.”

Ava hummed as she nodded. She led them away from the plaza-gallery they were in and into the city streets. She slowed when they were in sight of the nearest pole. “Each mer population has its own signature colors, and those colors are always oriented in a specific way. Abaddon’s colors are gold and green, as I’m sure you’ve figured out. See how the gold is always higher than the green? For Abaddon it’s the hierarchy of nature—the sun, or the sky, is always higher than sea grass and kelp forests.”

Tony stared at the pole in a new light. So the pole colors were a town’s identity and likely their pride, like how flags were the identities and prides of their nations.

“We should head back.” Instead of swirling around and leading them through Abaddon like Tony expected, Ava simply swam upwards toward bluer waters and angled herself in the direction of Marketside, making sure to keep plenty of space between themselves and any curious mer.

They swam in comfortable silence, hunting only once throughout their trek when they passed a large school of fish. For a while Ava entertained Tony with stories of her puphood friend Arno, who was, apparently, a prince.

The more Tony heard, the more excited he became. This Prince Arno was intelligent and resourceful, humble yet mischievous. He was a renowned scientist and engineer—perhaps the best in all the world’s oceans—and added significant contributions in the world of technology, such as adding mechanical components to carriages and even building the mer variant of a car. While not fond of large parties, the prince enjoyed small gatherings with his closest friends, eating only the best foods off of the most beautiful plates.

Tony’s kind of guy.

They made it back to the islands maybe an hour or so before nightfall. Upon entering the main chamber the two practically sank onto the closest platform. Tony wriggled out of his shirt and set it aside in a somewhat neat heap by his bags.

“While we’re resting,” Ava began, “I wanna teach you the basics of mer language. Let’s see…” She began muttering under her breath and making small absent gestures. “Let’s rest three days, and then begin our two-day swim to the kingdom.”

Excitement shivered down his spine, making his dorsal fin quiver. “Sounds good.”

“Wonderful.” After another few moments of resting Ava took them to the treasury room to prepare the next batch of accessories for trading. They chose more expensive items, such as handheld bronze sculptures and gold cutlery. After that they prepared Tony’s shattered suit, placing it in the hippocamp and moose pouches. Then they returned to the main chamber to sleep.


	4. Awake (and No Longer Human)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter in which I add a new pov and will henceforth be toggling between him and Tony w probs some others peppered in between as I see fit. Meet Kenneth Sage!

“—eth? Kenneth?”

Having been an agent of SHIELD for more than twenty years, Kenneth knew being knocked unconscious, through trauma or through some form of substance, was merely part of the job, though one should understandably keep the number as low as possible. Honestly, he was expecting nothing different with this mission, but he didn’t think it’d happen so soon.

He certainly wasn’t expecting to wake up cold, perhaps underwater, feeling so sick that the light threatened to make him puke. Moving made him feel like death. His neck chilled with every breath.

A hand placed itself on his shoulder. “Please tell me you’re awake.” The voice belonged to a woman, but his hearing was so distorted that he couldn’t tell if she was Delilah or Sasha, or even if she was an unknown woman who somehow knew his name.

“Let him sleep it off,” snapped a man’s voice, William Dunlap. “If he woke up like we did, he’ll need it.”

“Do you still feel ill?” _This_ voice was new. A young woman, high-pitched, concerned, tired. “I have some fish I’ve been saving since last night if you want it.”

A _fish_?

Movement. Kenneth felt vibrations against his legs, which oddly felt too large and long. “No,” Will hissed. “I’m just fine. I can hold out till we leave this aquarium of a lab.”

So they _were_ underwater. Kenneth tried to open his eyes but slightly recoiled at the wave of nausea that roiled about in his stomach. He felt himself moan, and Kenneth resigned himself to waiting out the nausea and taking stock of their situation.

“Kenneth!” The woman beside him was indeed Sasha, the senior agent now knew. She and Kenneth, along with Will and the unaccounted-for Delilah had been sent on this mission to find the missing people, a handful of which were SHIELD agents. They were to cozy up to Kevin Fett and gather intel on his activities because he was a prime suspect. Kenneth was sure Fett was responsible, even if the man himself was working for someone else.

“Mm?” he risked responding. His throat felt thick.

“How do you feel? Here, one tap for yes, two for no. Are you still nauseated?”

One tap. Kenneth even frowned to show the depth of his symptoms. Apparently the nausea was common. _What_ had happened to warrant that?

“Do you remember what happened before this? As in, what spurred our kidnapping?”

Two taps. He remembered the terms of the mission and the days after, but whatever happened yesterday was shrouded in a thick mental fog.

“Alright. It’s the same with us.” Kenneth imagined her nodding. “When you’re better, we’ll tell you what we remember, and what we’ve observed.”

Tap.

A burst of vibrations. “Let’s start with the obvious, shall we?” Will was suddenly by Kenneth’s side as if he’d dropped from above. But he couldn’t have, as his voice first came from further away, perhaps ten or so feet behind Sasha, and from the same distance as the tired young woman. Kenneth could tell from Will’s voice that he was sporting the deepest scowl known to mankind. “I’m sure you know what a mermaid is, Ken. Guess what? We’ve got shark tails! Surprise!”

Kenneth furrowed his brow. No. Mermaids weren’t real—but then again, he once believed aliens to be fantasy too, until he was sent out on missions involving artifacts far beyond the capabilities of man. And New York, little more than a year ago.

“Need more convincing?” Then Kenneth felt a hand trail down his “legs,” but his legs stretched on for far too long and ended with an upturned point, like that of a shark’s tailfin. “Wonderful, right?”

_Shark?_ What should’ve been his legs instead shifted as one unit, heavy and sluggish. But how? Alien technology? All 0-8-4s are accounted for in SHIELD’s eyes, and those that couldn’t be contained were monitored _very_ closely. If this were an 0-8-4, the signals—electromagnetic or otherwise—emitted as the artifact was activated would’ve been both a cause of alarm and a point of interest. And Kenneth truly didn’t think Chitauri tech could make mermaids out of people.

No. The source must be natural; that’s the only way it could go under SHIELD’s radar. What blend of chemicals and genes knitted a pair of legs into a single fish’s tail?

Vibrations. A sigh. It was the young woman. “The least they could’ve done was put us in a bigger tunicate.” Her voice rose higher and higher above them but still remained close, as if the ceiling to the room was no more than a few yards away.

“Be grateful for what ya got, pup,” snapped a new woman’s voice, deep and grating.

“Oh, boy.” Kenneth could feel William’s eyes roll. “Why here?”

Sasha chuckled. “Oh, it could be worse.”

After that it went silent. And Kenneth, with nothing to do but think and fight the nausea, soon fell asleep.

He woke up to a mechanical, clicking whirr and terrified moaning. Kenneth snapped opened his eyes, immediately noting the sight before him: more mermaids, or perhaps mer_men_, dragging a naked human woman through the lab. Despite being underwater, the woman appeared to be breathing normally—perhaps she was a mutant?—and was struggling against the pulls of the octopus-tentacled mermen leading her. The woman was led through the chamber and through a set of mechanical doors across the room from where Kenneth and his team were being held.

On the other side of the doors was what must’ve been an experimentation room. _Where we were taken and transformed._

What comes next? Kenneth wasn’t curious enough to wait.

The doors closed. Kenneth lifted himself up to his hands.

“Awake now, are we?” William’s voice came from above—because he _was_ above Kenneth. The man floated some four feet above the lead agent, his dark tail coiled loosely to the right as he swam in a tight circle. “Good evening, Sleeping Beauty. Or night. Whatever.”

Kenneth arched a brow. “So I guess _you_ woke up first?”

“Yes, actually. I did. A whole day before you.”

“We’ve been in here for two days?”

A dark form shifted behind Will. “Nearly three, now.” Now Kenneth could put a face to the young woman’s voice. Her shark tail was such a dark gray it was nearly black, and it was laced with pale scars. Her skin was dark, a shade lighter than Will’s, and her hair was short and black. She watched Kenneth and William with eyes wrinkled with fatigue. The mermaid was resting on a platform, most of her long tail hanging over it in what appeared to be an uncomfortable position.

On a platform below her was Sasha, asleep. Kenneth hoped Delilah was with her—there were only two more platforms in the “tunicate,” as the young woman called it, and they were too small for even an adult man to stretch out on.

Kenneth oriented himself so that he was facing her. It was degrading. A SHIELD agent on his stomach like a seal! “My name is Kenneth Sage. Who’re you?” If she was going to open up to him and tell him everything she knew he’d have to build up a sense of camaraderie. William certainly wasn’t the type to do it, not now.

“Marianas Abyssus.”

That didn’t sound like a human name. “Were you born a mermaid, Marianas?”

She nodded, seeming proud of that fact.

“How were we turned?”

“My blood, it appears.”

Ah. So _there_ it was. Kenneth supposed SHIELD couldn’t track something if they had no idea it existed, and it wasn’t like they can force a mermaid to keep her hands to herself—or a mad scientist from injecting her blood into someone unwilling.

William turned to face Marianas. “So we’re stuck this way? Permanently?”

“Six months at least. But,” her voice lowered, “you’ll never get to enjoy if it we stay here.”

Did she really think they _wanted_ to live as fish for half a year or more? If there was a way to “permanently” turn them into mermaids, then surely there was a way to permanently get their legs back? Kenneth stamped down his anger and indignation. “Why not?”

“Why not?” snapped the unknown woman. She was an old woman, Kenneth saw, and instead of a shark’s tail she had the coiling tail of an eel. “You know _why not_? Humans’ll pay a pretty bone for a mermaid!”

_Yes, we humans are known for our love of the unknown._ That was not a comforting thought; human depravity and the need for fame knew no bounds, Kenneth had long since learned.

“Wait. Wait, wait, wait.” William shook his head in disbelief. His hands were up and outstretched like he was trying to steady himself against a wall. “We’re being _sold_? Like _pets_?”

“That’s what _I_ think.”

There was movement on the platform above them. “To whom?” Sasha demanded.

The woman hissed. “Does it look like I know? You humans destroy everything needlessly for a handful of necklaces. I’ll be glad when—”

There was a groan from a few meters away to the right. “Amphitrite, can’t you keep quiet tonight?” Kenneth couldn’t see who was talking then. The voice, a young man, was hidden behind four tunicates’ worth of membranes; his form was globular and vaguely discernable as a merman. “We’re trying to—” He was shushed immediately.

“Trying to what?” Sasha urged, having risen into the water. “If it’s to escape, we all deserve to know.”

A short pause, hesitant and heavy. “It’s almost time for the guard to come in with food.”

“Why is that important?” she inquired, but she received no answer as multiple voices began demanding to know what the young man was planning. After a few more seconds of listening, she and Delilah swam down to Kenneth and William, and the four of them settled as best they could on the floor, bodies touching. “So I guess it’s time to share information,” Sasha began in a low voice.

“Finally,” William murmured. ”I’ll start. I woke up _nearly_ three days ago. Two different men were dragging a teenager into the experiment room—that was him, over there,” the agent clarified, gesturing to the young man’s voice that may or may not be calculating an escape plan. “Every day, at least once, they come in and throw fish at us like we’re seals. Talking to the guards is no use; they’ll either ignore you or yell. The others, however,” he added with a look around the room, “well, they like to argue. Getting intel from them was like solving a thousand-piece puzzle.”

“What’ve you got so far?” Delilah, speaking in the same subdued tone of voice, looked like she was still suffering from nausea. Her dark eyes were half-lidded and wrinkled. Her light brown skin was somewhat pale, either an effect of her sickness or a part of the transformation.

“The tunicate can only open from the outside. They say it’s enchanted, but I think it’s just some unknown science working. Apparently Aphrodite, or whatever her name is, has been here the longest, perhaps a week or less. She’s what’s left of the group before us, before we all replaced them.”

Kenneth inspected the membrane of the tunicate. Deciding to get a feel of his tail, the SHIELD agent pressed it against the membrane, frowning at its tough texture and its low range of flexibility.

Sasha cast the eel-woman a glance at the same time her superior began his inspection. “What’s so special about her?”

“I don’t—”

The door opened and all talk went silent. A guard, this one also sporting the eight tentacles of an octopus, swam in. In his many arms were four baskets filled with fish. He swam over to the tunicate that held the young adult man, delicately placing the other three on the tile floor. He lifted the remaining one over his shoulder and pour whatever was in the basket into the first tunicate. There was no resistance, to Kenneth’s utter astonishment; it was as if the inflexible flesh of the tunicate was never there.

Without warning the guard lurched into the tunicate. Merpeople shot up, watching the spectacle and obscuring Kenneth’s view, but he heard the beginnings of a yell before there was silence.

Everyone was still.

“Oh, I hope it works…” said the young man’s voice, shaky and fearful.

Tense silence.

Gasps.

Four bodies, all male and one of them limp, flung themselves out into the open, all having octopus tentacles. The three men used the guard’s limp body to free the captives. When it was time for Kenneth and team to be freed, they all watched with disbelief as the purplish flesh opened up around the guard’s body like it didn’t want to touch him.

Finally everyone was out in the open. Twenty-seven merpeople. Six swam towards he and his team—six other agents, all of whom went missing in the weeks prior to Kenneth and his team’s mission. Seven of the merpeople twirled in the water with unmatched grace, leading Kenneth to believe that they had been born mermaids. The last ten floated about awkwardly, inspecting their bodies and moving their tentacles and tails around experimentally—some of the missing civilians. 

“Everyone, please, listen.” The room went silent, all eyes on one of the octopus mermen. He looked no older than thirty-five, no younger than thirty. His tentacles were blood red with striking blue ringlets that seemed to glow. In his hand he held a green paper; in the arms of the other two tentacle mermen was the guard’s body. “We don’t have much time. Once we get through these doors, the outside is quite the swim away. Keep close to each other, and _be quiet_.”

They had to use the guard’s body—there was no way he was unconscious, what with the way his head dangled and flopped; he had to have been choked to death, or his neck broken—to open the doors, as he had a keycard like the ones SHIELD used. The door hissed closed behind the last of them and in an instant the three octopus-men led the dangerously large escape party up the monotonous hallway.

As they swam, Kenneth took stock of his team and the agents within sight. Delilah was still suffering from her nausea. She had to be carried between Sasha and William, their bodies keeping her afloat. Meanwhile Sasha and William appeared to be coming to terms with their bodies; their tails moved fluidly, steadily, from side to side.

Cecilia Coletta—or Cecil, as she preferred to be called—was alert, her eyes flicking to and fro as she took stock of their surroundings. Her white whale tail was short in comparison to everyone else’s, but her body was still at least twice as long as she should’ve been. Those with her, Agents Deborah Heidler and Brent Sanchez, were also aware of their surroundings.

Deborah, a member of the Science department, was a stereotypical mermaid: she had the long tail of a fish. Her scales gleamed white in the sterile light of the hallway. Instead of studying her surroundings, she was eyeing the people before her. Her mouth was moving but Kenneth couldn’t make out any words.

Brent was relatively young to the field, having graduated the Sci-Tech only three years ago. Kenneth would bet a month’s worth of pay that this was the biggest predicament Brent had ever gotten into so far, purposefully or not. In spite of that, he held himself with dignity, his red-black eel tail flowing through the water like a ribbon.

Kenneth was unsure who the last three were, two women and one man. The first of the women, a redhead with a dark green fish tail, stared straight ahead with the slightest hint of a scowl on her face. Having the tentacles of octopi were the last woman and the muscular man. They swam close together as if being separated would kill them. Her dark blue tentacles seemed to meld into his night-black limbs.

Finally they made a left turn into another hallway, though this one was shorter than the first.

Vibrations to his left. “Surely there are cameras here?” a woman whispered. Crystal Sains. Her golden hair undulated behind her in slow motions and her green eyes were worried and suspicious. “Why hasn’t the alarm been sounded?”

“Perhaps they don’t know yet,” Kenneth replied just as softly. “Or their security is different than ours.”

Her brows furrowed. “I don’t like this. It’s too calm.”

He nodded, and they both went silent. But her words unnerved him. She was right: Kenneth saw no implications of surveillance anywhere in the ceiling. But it made sense—what use was electricity underwater? Perhaps different technology was in use down here. Perhaps the merpeople used vigilant fish and sharks as K9 units.

The group stopped at a T intersection, leaving enough space between themselves and the corners of the hall. Bodies were pressed against the white wall.

Kenneth watched the red octopus-man creep forwards, practically crawling against the wall. He glanced to and fro and then immediately pulled back. He darted to the opposite wall and gestured, coiling his tentacles. _A guard,_ he mouthed. He then pointed to the group and to his side of the hallway. _Over here._

Everyone moved. The three merpeople with eel tails coiled their tails close to their body like snakes ready to strike.

Now everyone just had to hope the guard hadn’t seen his head, or didn’t need to go their way. Still, bodies were poised to attack and disarm, even kill, the unfortunate guard. Kenneth habitually reached for his gun, or even a knife, only to be met with scales and bare skin. He pursed his lips.

Seconds passed like minutes.

Everyone went as still as statues as the merman passed, completely oblivious to their presence. He was completely unlike any other merperson Kenneth had seen or ever imagined to exist. Below his torso was the armored body and legs of a mantis shrimp. His scales were pink but overlaid with the vibrant colors of dawn and even his white skin was beautifully iridescent. His first pair of claws was tucked close to his scaled stomach, ready to strike out at anyone unfortunate enough to be within range; the rest of his legs paddled in the water with mesmerizing motions. Over his torso he wore a red shirt made of some type of fabric. Sewn into the fabric were medium-sized circular scales, no doubt to serve as armor.

He stopped and flashed a charming smile over his shoulder. “Nice try, everyone. You know my eyesight is—hey!” The octopus-men lurched towards him, but he bolted away to the ceiling. “We all have something to lose if we’re caught.” He unfurled his forelegs slightly as a warning and everyone drew back. Mantis shrimp had the most powerful punch in the animal kingdom, didn’t they?

“It’s a trick,” hissed one of the fish-tailed mermaids. “Let’s just kill him.” Voices agreed with her, demanding the mantis merman’s gruesome death.

“How?” snapped the eel-woman. “Can’t you see what he is? He’ll kill _us_.”

“Not all of us.”

The mantis merman frowned. “We only have so much time left. You’re trying to escape, aren’t you? I can show you the way out.” He didn’t wait for protest. He twisted and swam back the way he came.

And for all their protesting, no one was willing to stay behind. They all filed after him like ducklings, all as silent as shadows. Despite the exit supposedly being “quite the swim away,” they were led down—literally down—hallways that would’ve served as pitfalls up on the surface. These corridors descended far enough to be certain death for any human. There were times the mantis merman had to sneak them past other guards and even had to hide them.

It was all very nerve-wracking, especially for the SHIELD agents. They knew next to nothing about the mermaid species apart from the facts that they were as varied in body as humans were in skin color and that they may be a violent people. Upon their kidnapping the agents had been stripped bare and the sensation of cold water and other bodies touching their exposed skin increased their sense of vulnerability.

Even seasoned SHIELD agents had their limits, and Kenneth was personally very close to reaching his.

"Almost there,” said the mantis guard. “There’s a tunnel just up ahead.”

Here the lights were an ominous red instead of a hospital white. The walls had degraded in texture and now looked more natural, as if the lab had been tunneled into rock. Anemones and corals were latched onto the formations of the walls and fish darted to and fro; each shone with their own mesmerizing light under the red glow.

“Why did you help us?” asked a mermaid, the one who demanded he be killed. Kenneth thought she sounded somewhat guilty.

“Because this is the perfect time for you,” said the guard cryptically without bothering to look back at her. He stopped at the end of the corridor and directed his gaze upwards, alerting everyone to the tunnel at the ceiling. “Because I’ve been dying to save someone, no matter the cost to me.”

The escape party glanced uneasily at one another, the SHIELD agents for a different reason. They’d been sent on this mission to investigate the appearance of alleged formerly-mythical creatures and gather intel on civilians who had all gone missing. Although they have seen potential world-ending threats in the last few years, none of them thought they’d see the beginnings of another in such an unprecedented way.

“What’s happening?” a male SHIELD agent spoke up. It was agent with the black tentacles.

“I don’t know,” the guard confessed, much to Kenneth’s disappointment. “All I know is that the top boss sells nearly everyone he turns into mer to other mer or humans. I don’t know his end.”

There were hisses of contempt from the escape party. It sounded like disturbed rattlesnakes.

“Go, follow the moon west for three nights, then go south. Tell King Morgan what’s happening.” He frequently glanced behind them as if he needed constant reassurance that they were alone. “I have a post to get to soon. I really can’t be late.”

As “mer” began swimming though the tunnel, the young male octopus-man turned to the guard. “Thank you, man. What’s your name?”

“Call me Mato.”

The octopus man nodded and shot upwards into the tunnel, followed by the two eel-people and one with a dolphin’s tail.

Kenneth twisted in the water. The other agents were behind him, tending to one another, and he counted three merpeople mingling amongst them, making light but urgent conversation. One, a woman with an octopus body, led Crystal and Cecil through the tunnel, allowing them to hold her hands to steady themselves. A man with a purple fish’s tail swam at Brent’s side, and two more agents followed behind them. In seconds Kenneth, his team, and Marianas were left.

Kenneth swam over to the natural-born mermaid. “I’ll take her. You lead us up.” He carefully took hold of Delilah. She gained well over a hundred pounds in her transformation from human to mermaid and Kenneth almost groaned under her weight.

“Sorry, sorry,” murmured the woman, shifting lightly in his and William’s hold.

Will shook his head. “No, don’t worry about it. Lead the way, Marianas.”

With Sasha taking up the rear, the team swam up through the tunnel. Kenneth swung his tail with extra force to accommodate for Delilah’s weight.

For more than ten seconds they were surrounded by darkness. Kenneth could almost feel the walls of the tunnel close in on him even though, at their closest, they were no less than a foot away.

He knew instantly when they emerged into the open ocean. The oppressive presence of the tunnel vaporized in an instant. A pale silver light, almost indistinguishable from the shadow of night, gleamed and shifted about above.

“Good, we’re all here,” said the red octopus merman. He was little more than a shadow against the moonlight. “We’ll swim west for a few hours before we start hunting. Let’s go.” He led the way into the darkness, following the moon as they were all told.

Delilah sighed deeply. “I think…let me wal—um, swim.” The woman adjusted herself as her two teammates slowly pulled away from her. Within seconds she found her rhythm. “I don’t feel nauseated anymore, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“That’s good,” Sasha said as she swam above them. “I was getting worried.”

All around the group there was light conversation. Voices were kept low in case there were any guards or loyalists around.

“So we are—what’d he say?—mer?” Will’s face tightened. “I had a vacation after this. A whole two month vacation. In Italy.”

Kenneth lifted a brow. “At least you’ll still enjoy fish dinners and swimming in the sea.”

“Nah, I prefer pasta and hikes. I planned a trip with the missus up Vesuvius.”

The group chuckled and then went silent. From his periphery Kenneth noted the women of his team, and nearly all the female agents and civilians, had their arms crossed over their breasts; before them the other women, those who had been born mermaids, felt no such inclination. Was it common for merpeople to be bare-chested? Even in artistic depictions of mermaids, they wore bras fashioned of clams or starfish. Was that just the human need for coverage? Was Mato wearing a shirt because his job required it, or was everyone who was kidnapped stripped bare because this _top boss_ wanted it?

Kenneth prayed merpeople had a postal service. He needed to contact SHIELD and inform them of the threat under their own noses.

__________________________________________________________

When the wavering crescent moon was directly above them, the octopus merman in the lead, whose name was Mollus, allowed everyone to rest and hunt. They now rested amongst formless boulders at least as large as horses. Kenneth’s enhanced eyesight picked out crabs scuttling across the sand and rays coasting between the rocks. Fish darted to and fro, and the occasional octopus slithered over stone.

Kenneth watched the natural mer hunt and tear into their meals. Blood and viscera clouded around their faces and hair. Some of the mer were paired with brazen civilians and agents, teaching them to hunt. Deborah was, naturally, one of them; Kenneth could only imagine the report she’d write when they were back on land.

A dead fish sunk before his face. It was a small shark, but still large enough for he and his team to dine on—not like they wanted to. Blood swirled from its gills and Sasha made a low, rumbling sound of disgust. Kenneth himself had to clench his teeth when he tasted the shark’s blood through his neck.

“You need to eat.” Marianas’s voice, amused, came from above. She swam in graceful circles above the team, her tail hardly swaying. “All of you.”

“You actually eat your own?” Delilah poked at the shark.

Marianas swam circles above them. “All fish are fair game. We were lucky it was nearby. You need to hurry and eat. I’m sure Mollus will lead the pod out soon.” With a flick of her tail she shot off into the dark. Some agents followed her, leaving Kenneth and his team behind.

“So we’re just…supposed to eat this?” Disgust laced Delilah’s voice. She was still poking the shark with her claws, steadily adding pressure until its skin broke. “_Raw_?”

“We have no choice,” Sasha managed to choke out, and the team cast their eyes on her forlorn face. “You heard Marianas back there: we’re stuck this way for six months at least. We might as well get used to it.”

Kenneth nodded right as Will groaned. Delilah said nothing; with a grimace she opened the puncture wound more, causing a cloud of blood to explode into the shadow-filled waters. They all, tentatively, picked away at the meat, which had no actual flavor. Kenneth was glad for that.

After an hour Mollus called everyone together. By that time the shark had nearly been reduced to skin, bones, and entrails. Marianas told them to push the corpse over the rocks; scavengers would make short work of the leftovers.

They continued west.

When dull sunlight pierced through the shadows of the Atlantic, Mollus led the group downwards to the sandy sea floor to rest. They would continue swimming at sunset. Kenneth and three other agents, two mer, and a male civilian took the first watch. Mollus offered himself up for the first watch, but the “pod” insisted that he rest. After verifying who would take the next two shifts, everyone sank to the sand to sleep.

Kenneth rose up and stared out into the brightening blue waters. Faint beams of light were beginning to shimmer from the surface and rippled along the floor. Behind him he saw no distant shadow, nothing to remind him of the underwater laboratory, and no angry guards sent to recapture them.

He glanced at his tail. It was streamlined and powerful, and it was a beautiful gray-silver in color, just a few shades from black. His underbelly was slightly paler. Where his scales merged into skin there was a blurred difference in color. His scales were free of any scars that he could see, despite the fact that he’d taken some hits to his legs in his youth. Perhaps they just translated differently.

The three other agents coasted up to him: Deborah, Cecil, and the merman with black tentacles.

“An interesting situation, huh?” Cecil began in a soft voice, just loud enough for them all to hear. Her sleek white tail hung underneath her, gently swaying. “Never in my life did I think this could ever happen.”

“Oh,” said Deborah, grinning with unnaturally sharp teeth, “this is _more_ than interesting. This’ll open up an entirely new realm of science and logistics. Imagine the minerals these people work with: iron, basalt, peridotite…their knowledge could revolutionize work on the surface.”

Cecil looked unconvinced. “Or destroy us, as _someone_ may intend to do.”

Said the octopus man after a short pause, “Let’s just observe and learn first, before we decide to take their knowledge into our labs.”

Everyone nodded at that and began to exchange information of their own captivity, occasionally glancing over their shoulders to ensure no one was sneaking up on them. Kenneth told them of his mission and the days leading up to his capture and transformation. Deborah had been sent out alongside Cecil to investigate the claims of mermaids and had been overpowered in a fight against kidnappers in the Bay of Fundy in Maine; she woke up in a lab right before she was forced onto the experiment table, and she remembered the cold sensation of blood being injected into her body just before going unconscious. Cecil reported the same experience, though she remembered being forced to leave Deborah’s unconscious body for the experiment room. The octopus-tentacled agent, whose name was Emmett, reported a different memory: he was an undercover agent who allowed himself to be captured with the full expectation of fighting his way out and contacting his superiors with intel. He’d met Amanda along the way, who had lost her teammates on the field doing unrelated work. They had planned to break out together.

“But that obviously didn’t go as expected,” he finished with a half-smile, some of his tentacles writhing.

Kenneth allowed himself to chuckle. “None of this went as expected.”

They dispersed and continued on with their watch, coasting over the sand and rock and over the sleeping bodies of their group. A few times Kenneth drove himself upwards to the surface and watched the sky brighten and the clouds disperse. Sometimes he felt a breeze that chilled his wet skin and hair.

Around noon the morning shift woke up their replacements. Congora, an eel-tailed mer, groaned as Kenneth nudged her awake.

“Noon already?” she murmured, rubbing at her eyes.

“I’m afraid so,” he verified. Kenneth watched her uncoil from her position and swim off. As she joined the rest of the noon shift, the shark merman joined his team. They were sleeping so close to one another that they were almost touching. The senior agent joined them, making himself comfortable on the sand.

_Two more nights of this._ What happens if they’re ever attacked? The former-humans had no weapons and their fighting styles would be rendered useless in a world where people could attack from literally all angles. And what of their weapons? Are the merpeople using blades, spears, and arrows, or do they have their own brand of guns and other long-range machinery? Languages? Gestures? Politics? A simple word or hand motion may mean nothing to those who came from the surface, but what if they were blindly agreeing to their deaths or imprisonment once they reached the king?

His eyes scanned the sleeping bodies. It was easy to tell the mer from the humans: many of them were heavily scarred, even more so than some of the agents themselves.

_Emmett was right, but we need to do more than observe if we want to live. We need to become a part of their world._


End file.
